


Merrily, Merrily, Maritally

by Allekha



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Clothing Kink, Crossdressing, Fluff, Gentle Sex, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sexual Roleplay, Veiling Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 12:46:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13681971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/pseuds/Allekha
Summary: Victor is very good at playing games, and when Chris goes to visit him one summer, they play at being newlyweds after Chris discovers a white dress in Victor's closet.





	Merrily, Merrily, Maritally

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Chris! And happy Valentine's Day, for those who celebrate it.

When Victor called Chris to say that his parents were going to make him house-sit for two weeks in the summer while they were on a trip, and it would be boring with just him and Makkachin there, did Chris want to come visit? there was nothing to say but yes, he very much did. Never mind that it was too early in the morning to be making international travel plans without even checking with his parents first. Victor's voice went high and excited, and Chris was already thinking of what they could get up to together.

Victor met him at the airport, calling out his name and waving madly, as though Chris was going to mistake anyone else for him. They chattered all the way back to his parents' place, then were ambushed by Makkachin as soon as they opened the door. Chris had never realized quite how heavy such a large dog would be until she was climbing over his chest. Laughing, Victor pulled her off and pulled Chris's suitcase in. Chris had about five seconds to look around – there were a lot of potted plants that Victor's parents must have wanted him to care for, a few of which were flowering – before Victor was tugging him back through the door with a firm grip on his hand.

They stayed out, wandering around Saint Petersburg, until they were both tired of walking. After a decent dinner at a small place Victor said he liked, it was nice to return to the quieter apartment. Nice to laze around for a while playing with Makkachin. Nice to have Victor wrap his hand around his wrist and show him to his room.

It was plain – most of Victor's things had to be at the apartment where he slept most nights, living with his coach and ballet instructor – but it was neat, and there was a window, and the bed was big enough for two people who didn't mind sleeping very close together. Victor sat down on it and gave him an expectant look, but Chris's attention had already been captured by the one thing that didn't belong. There was something long and pale in the open closet. "What's that?"

"Oh, that?" Victor sprang up again and pulled it out to show him. "I was helping Mama pack, and we found this. She was complaining that she would never wear it again and we joked that it was about my size, so I tried it on. It actually fits pretty well. She said I could have it, since if any man was going to wear it someday, it would be me, although I don't know if... Chris?"

It was a wedding dress, lovely but not ostentatious, long sleeves and a long skirt, white with tiny pin tucks on the chest and lace overlay everywhere. Chris imagined Victor in it, his hair loose and spilling all over, maybe holding some of his signature blue roses, and it was suddenly very hard to think of anything else. "Your mom wore this and it fits you?" he asked, slowly reaching out to touch one of the details on the bodice.

"You haven't met Mama, have you? She's taller than you are. And it was kind of tight on me. It might not fit in a few years." He glanced up and smiled. Oh, Chris knew and loved that look. He knew exactly what Victor was about to ask as he opened his mouth again. "Chris," he said, sing-song. "Do you want to play a game with me?"

"Is it called 'newlyweds'?"

Victor's grin widened.

Chris looked at the dress again. Beautiful, and there was only one of it. "It won't work if we aren't both dressed up. What do you have for me to wear, Victor?"

"Hm." Victor shifted the dress in his arms and tilted his head. "Let's see. I don't have most of my clothes here. Mom married Mama in a nice enough suit, but I don't think she has it anymore, and she's really small, it would never – oh, but you could borrow this one of mine. I needed a new one, so I bought it just the other day and it's here instead of there." He dropped the dress on the bed and turned to rummage through his closet. A few seconds later, Chris was holding an armful of clothing. "There you go! Get dressed and meet me in the living room, okay?" Victor beamed at him.

Chris glanced down at what had been shoved in his arms, then looked at Victor. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hm?"

Chris leaned over and gave him a kiss, slow and soft. Victor sighed happily into it, but as soon as it was over, he didn't hesitate in shooing Chris out so he could get dressed alone.

Chris stripped in a corner of the living room and started to re-dress. It was a pretty nice suit, made with the deep black that suited Victor so well; it was so new that it didn't really feel like he was borrowing Victor's clothes. He tried not to be impatient when he was finished, but as the minutes ticked by, he couldn't help but fiddle with his tie and tug at his cuffs as he waited.

Victor, he had found out over the past year, not only liked to pretend things in bed – all kinds of things – but was also _really good_ at it. Like last time, when he'd wanted to play at being Chris's personal slave, and hadn't complained when Chris had made him rest his head in his lap for hours before he got bored of petting Victor's hair. (Well, okay, Victor had grumbled afterward about Chris making him wait forever to get to the actual sex. But not at all in the moment.) Once, Chris had even made him cry, which he had felt kind of bad about, but Victor hadn't said to stop for real, so he hadn't, and Victor had been happy enough when they cuddled afterward.

Compared to some of the other things they had done, playing at newlyweds was almost tame. But it was sweet. Chris liked sweet, too. He thought of the kinds of nice things he could say to Victor as he waited, about how beautiful Victor was and how much he loved him and how lucky he was, the kinds of things he thought someone newly married would say. His cheeks heated. Some of them sounded incredibly sappy even in his own head. But that would be fine with Victor. Chris had seen some of the romance novels he liked, especially after Victor decided that they would be a good way to practice his French and kept sending him parts he didn't understand for help.

And while they said all those nice things to each other – Chris imagined slow, giggly kisses, undressing each other bit by bit, holding each other close. His toes curled against the floor. It sounded nice. He wondered if Victor wanted to do anything in particular, or if he just wanted Chris to keep him up half the night.

"Close your eyes," he heard from behind him. He did, and chilled hands pulled at both of his to tug him further into the room. "Okay," Victor said, quiet, still holding his hands, so Chris opened his eyes again.

Victor, as he had imagined, looked stunning. The dress fit him very well, the long skirt almost brushing his feet. The gathers of the skirt seemed to spring away from his slim waist, and the sleeves followed every curve of muscle in his arms down to his wrists. Victor had indeed let his hair down, and as lovely of a sight as that always was, Chris found his breath unexpectedly taken away by the thing Victor hadn't shown him.

Perched on his head was a small crown of little flowers – pastel blue and soft pink and dusty purple, the fabric faded, nothing like the striking rose crown that Victor had worn the first time they met. And hanging from that was a plain veil, covering his face and falling to the upper part of his chest in the front. Chris could still see through it, could see Victor's cheeks turning pink, his mouth turning up into a smile, his eyes roaming around Chris's body as much as Chris was staring at him. But it wasn't as transparent as he had thought a bridal veil would be, masking Victor just a bit, almost putting him into soft focus.

Chris wanted to touch him. Wanted to put his hands on Victor's waist, to slide them up the veil and trace his face underneath there. But Victor was holding his hands tightly; for the moment, Chris settled for squeezing them back as they continued looking at each other.

_So we just got married_ , he thought, to put himself in the right mindset, and out loud, he broke the silence with, "I can't believe we got through the party. I could barely keep my hands off of you."  
  
"I could tell," Victor said, his voice breathy. "I couldn't wait to take you home as my husband for the first time." He dropped Chris's hands to hug him instead, pressed all against his front and tucked his face down into Chris's shoulder. "And now we're alone," he murmured. His grip tightened.  
  
Chris wrapped his arm around Victor's waist, ran his other hand through the longer part of Victor's hair where it fell out from under the veil. "You look so beautiful like this."  
  
"You, too." He pulled his head up enough to look at Chris, put his hands on his cheeks. "Look at you," he crooned. "You're not going to make me wait _tonight_ , are you? You should kiss me again."  
  
For a moment, Chris considered him, his face under the netting of the veil, and on an impulse, kissed him through it. It was strange, feeling Victor's lips and their warmth and the little intake of breath he made, but also the veil, thin but keeping them apart all the same.  
  
"Chris," Victor said with a laugh. "Kiss me for real?" He rocked up against Chris and made eyes at him.  
  
How could he resist? Chris let go of Victor's hair and slowly lifted the front of the veil, folding it up over Victor's face – but only enough to uncover his lips. He meant for the kiss to be gentle and chaste, but his brain had other ideas. As soon as their lips met, he wanted more; so, it seemed, did Victor, who opened his mouth when Chris did, and they both clutched at each other as they kissed until they were hot and breathless.  
  
It was Victor who finally pulled away first, and when he did so, the veil fell back over his face. He made an unhappy sound and went to push it back up. "You're supposed to uncover my whole face," he said.  
  
Chris grabbed his hand. "But it looks pretty like that," he said. "You should keep it on." There was something alluring about the way it looked on Victor, not quite hiding him, not quite letting Chris see everything.  
  
"Oh," Victor said, and his hand relaxed in Chris's. "If you like it, that's fine." He smiled again.

Chris laced their hands together. "Shall we go to our room?"

Victor nodded, and then he paused. He put a finger to his lips underneath the veil. "Isn't it traditional for one person to carry the other in?" They looked at each other. Either of them was strong enough to do so. Chris didn't have a preference; actually, it might be fun to have Victor whisk him away. After a moment, Victor said, "I think if they can both do it, if one person's in a suit, it's usually them?"

"And here I thought it was the older one, which would be you."

"Or the one who's taller, which is you."

"By, what, a whole centimeter?"

"So that's two out of three for you." Victor beamed at him.

Chris sighed. "If you wanted me to carry you that much, you could have just said." Victor laughed as Chris disentangled their hands and scooped him up, being very careful to hold him firmly, and not to knock him into the door as he carried him into the bedroom. He could hear Victor humming, and the arms around his neck kept squeezing.

Something in his heart kept tripping over itself, as if this were more than a game, and he and Victor really were about to celebrate their wedding night. It wasn't bad, though. He was just getting into their pretend situation, and it left him feeling a bit lightheaded as he slowly set Victor down again, made him want to look and look and touch. And he did; he put his hands on Victor's waist as he had been wanting to, felt Victor solid and muscular and warm beneath them.

Victor had drawn the curtains, though they didn't completely block out the light, and it would be hours yet before sunset at this time of year. Everything looked softer like this. Especially Victor, who smiled at Chris again and pulled him toward the bed, where they sat next to each other on the rumpled covers.

Chris slid a hand under the veil, drew it slowly up Victor's neck like he'd been thinking of, cupped his warm cheek. Victor turned his head into it, kissed his palm and rubbed his cheek against it, until Chris reached over his shoulder, trying to find whatever closed the dress in the back. There was a sharp shiver under his hand as it brushed across the back of Victor's neck, and he did it again to see the way he arched into the touch. And again, before he tried again to find the zipper or whatever under all of Victor's hair.

"Are you trying to take it off? Don't." Victor pulled his hand higher up, back to his neck. "I want to wear it for a while longer. You keep yours on, too."

"Are you sure? I don't want to get them dirty."

"Then we'll have to be careful. I have to take this in to be cleaned, anyway."

"Alright." They were Victor's clothes, and they _had_ only just gotten dressed. He kissed Victor through the veil again. "I don't mind getting to look at you like this for longer."

"You've had all day," Victor laughed, starting to lean back and pulling Chris with him.

"You say that like it was enough time."

Victor tugged harder, and Chris lost his balance; they fell to the covers together. There was skirt fabric pinned under his knee, and his hand was trapped under Victor's head, and they'd landed at an awkward angle – any more to the right and someone would have hit their head on the wall. It took a few minutes of shuffling around to get comfortable, with no limbs losing feeling or fabric pulling oddly. They finally arrived at an arrangement where Victor could lay down without the crown poking his head and without Chris accidentally pulling on his hair every time he moved, with Chris straddling his waist.

"Good?" Chris asked, and Victor shifted the skirt again – which required that Chris move his knee – and nodded. He gave a happy sigh and reached up to loop his arms around Chris's shoulders.

"Come here," said Victor, soft, so Chris did, leaning further down until he was almost laying on top of Victor. There was a hand running through his hair, giving him that nice shivery sensation. He pushed the veil up to kiss Victor again – slow at first, warm and good, and then growing in intensity until the hand in his hair was pulling too hard and his body was starting to feel hot.

They broke apart. Chris kept a hand on the veil to keep it out of the way as he kissed his way down Victor's neck, lingering right above the high neckline of the dress and sucking gently at the skin. He could Victor panting beneath him, clutching at him, whimpering almost too quiet to hear as Chris sucked harder, before propped himself back up on his elbows and tried to catch his breath. Victor always looked so good like this, red-faced and his blue eyes fixed firmly on Chris, watching him and wanting him, and it made him feel even hotter.

Then Victor smiled and gave a little laugh. "And here I was worried you'd be too tired from today to make love with me," he said, something in his voice so sweet that Chris had to kiss him again.

"Of course not. How could I resist my husband on our wedding day, of all days?" He was pleased at the way _my husband_ made Victor gasp. "I want to keep you up with me all night."

"You had better," and if his voice was less demanding than it might have been otherwise, maybe that had something to do with the way Chris was trying to slip a couple of fingers down his neckline to trace his collarbone.

Chris ran a hand down Victor's chest, then back up, following the lines of the pin tucks. "I will," he said, and on a whim, added a sugary, "love." Victor tilted his head and smiled at him, so he must have liked it. Then he shivered as Chris shifted so he had both hands free to touch Victor with, because one wasn't enough.

He could feel Victor breathing, but the fabric of the dress was thick, maybe lined, so that he couldn't feel anything else he knew was under there, his ribs and his defined muscles. Chris let one of his hands wander to the side, guessing at where – hm, not quite there, though it made Victor emit a light groan – ah, there was his nipple, judging by the way Victor squirmed. If he pressed harder, he could just feel it, but honestly, Victor wriggling underneath him was a lot more rewarding. He liked watching Victor move like that, liked the noises he made for him.

He found the other one, too, alternated between rubbing at them and touching elsewhere, the curve of Victor's shoulder and that of his waist, until Victor's moans and the way he kept moving got to be too much. Chris kissed him again, open-mouthed, though he couldn't be bothered to move the veil this time. Victor didn't seem to mind. Chris could even feel his tongue through the netting and god, was it weird to get so turned on by how it felt to kiss through this thin barrier? He pushed into it harder, into the texture of the net and Victor's hot lips and the strange plasticky taste of the fabric.

"Chris," Victor gasped when he pulled away. He curled his fingers into his belt loops, pulled him back in. Chris ground into the edge of Victor's hip and groaned into his mouth. He could feel Victor's nails digging into his skin even though the layers of the suit, pinpricks of pain.

This time it was Victor who broke the kiss, panting hard; Chris wondered if the dress was too tight after all. "Okay?"

Victor nodded, then grabbed Chris's hand and guided it down. His whole face was red. "Please."

"Please what?" He said it teasingly, and he kept his touch on the dress light even when Victor tried to press his hand down.

Victor grabbed at the side of the skirt with his other hand, lifted it fractionally. " _Please_ put your hands up my dress and touch me."

"Okay. Whatever you want." He turned his hand over to hold Victor's, then brought it to his lips so he could put them to the back of it. Victor's hands always seemed to be cold, but for once, it was very warm, the soft skin going pink under the ends of the white sleeves.

As Chris sat back, Victor pulled his legs up a bit. He looked so nice that Chris had to admire him some more while he pulled more fabric out from under himself and found one of Victor's ankles to put his fingers around. He had stockings on, smooth and as white as the dress, and only mostly opaque.

"Do you like me in this?" Victor arched to show himself off and curled his hands near his head. "The way you're looking at me makes me never want to take it off."

"I like you in everything," Chris said. He wasn't even making it up; Victor looked good in practice clothes and he looked good in his team jacket and he looked good wearing nothing and he even looked good soaked in rain and wearing an old coat that was too big for him (as Chris had discovered a few months ago during an ill-timed adventure). "Besides, I don't think your coach would approve of us showing up to practice in these," he added as he started to move his hand up, up Victor's calves and bony knees to his strong thighs above the ends of the stockings.

Victor gave an exaggerated sigh. "Maybe I'll just borrow your clothes instead," and oh, there was a thought. Chris filed that one away. At the same time, he imagined Victor trying to practice jumps in a wedding dress, and he couldn't help but laugh at the image.

At Victor's questioning look, he said, "I'm glad we didn't do the wedding on ice like you wanted."

"I _still_ think that was the best idea," Victor said with a pout.

"My parents can't skate!"

"They had time to learn."

"Makkachin can't."

"And that's the only reason I let you talk me out of it." Now it was Chris's turn to sigh, which made Victor protest, "It would have been thematic! The ice was our first love!"

"We didn't marry the ice, did we?" His hand drifted up Victor's inner thigh, and whatever Victor was about to say died. "I married _you_. Lucky me."

"Lucky you," Victor echoed.

"...aren't you supposed to say something like 'lucky _me_ ' and then we argue about who got the better deal?" He was pretty sure there had been a scene along those lines in one of Victor's silly novels.

"You're the one who got to marry an Olympic athlete who _also_ set a world record in Juniors–" and Chris wanted to laugh, he really did, Victor's intentional overly-proud expression was hilarious. He stopped touching, instead, and sat back on his heels. "No, don't, please." Victor reached for him. "Come on, Chris, please, you know I didn't mean it."

Chris didn't bother pretending to be mad – he wanted to keep touching Victor, too – and he smiled and leaned forward again. He tugged the dress up the last little bit he needed to get a look. And oh, Victor didn't just have a lacy dress, he had matching underwear, white and with lace that was see-through and not doing much to conceal anything beneath.

"Did you buy this just for today?" he breathed, letting his fingers trail up Victor's thigh to lightly brush the surface. Victor let out a whine and tried to push up into the touch, but Chris pulled his hand away. "Did you? I haven't seen you wear it before."

"Yes, I wanted to surprise you. _Chris_. Please."

"Of course you did." Chris relented and pressed his whole hand down; Victor's eyes fluttered behind the veil. "It looks lovely on you."

As much as he wanted to touch Victor properly – and let Victor touch him – Chris couldn't resist teasing him a bit more. Victor reacted so well to teasing, after all. Chris didn't know if anyone could go _please please please_ as well as Victor could, or make such wonderful pleading expressions. He ground his hand down and watched the reactions it got.

This was giving him all sorts of ideas. Chris took his hand away and shimmied down until he was low enough to replace the hand with his mouth. Victor grabbed for his hair and almost screamed. And this was more interesting than he had thought it would be, the shape of Victor's cock through the fabric under his lips, so warm and firm, and Chris thought maybe he could even taste him under the fabric. He shifted to mouth at the head, and suddenly Victor's legs were crossed over his neck and he would have trouble moving away even if he wanted to.

Yeah, okay, maybe this was going to be a thing with him. Chris kept his mouth moving, even scraped very carefully and lightly with his teeth, and Victor kept clutching at him. If it had been weird but good to kiss Victor through lace, it was almost doubly so to press his tongue against lace with his cock on the other side. Chris wondered if he could make Victor come like this, without taking off a stitch of clothing, without ever even touching him without fabric in the way, and suddenly he wanted to.

And then Victor pulled harder at his hair, not in the 'this is amazing please keep it up' kind of way, and said, "Chris, stop, please, stop, stop," and Chris immediately pulled away. He poked his head above the hem of the skirt to see what was up, and Victor didn't look distressed, so that was good.

"What is it?" he prompted when Victor didn't say anything.

"I want you to touch me," Victor said, and before Chris could say that he was, added, " _properly_. And...." Either the shifting of the veil over his face made it look redder, or he was flushing deeper. "I want to come when we're making love."

"This isn't making love?" Chris nuzzled against his knee.

"You know what I mean. Chris," he whined. "I want you inside of me. Please."

"Okay." He kissed the knee he'd been rubbing his cheek against. "If that's what you want." That sounded like a good idea, too.

He climbed back up, and Victor insisted on another kiss, and then started in on the fastenings of his fancy suit pants. He sighed as he pulled him out; Chris dropped his head and leaned into the touch. They'd done this enough that Victor knew the right way to touch him, knew what Chris liked, and it was such a disappointment when he stopped after a few strokes to reach for his bedside table.

Chris didn't take off the lacy underthings just yet; after slicking up his fingers, he nudged the fabric out of the way to slide two fingers in. Victor rocked his hips into it and sighed again. "Hurry," he demanded. "I've been waiting all day for this."

"You can wait a minute more, then. I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," said Victor. "All day, Chris." Maybe that part was even true, not part of their made-up story. Chris thought about it. Victor waiting for his plane to come in, waiting at arrivals for a glimpse of him, taking him out in the city all day while no doubt planning something outrageous for when they got back (which probably wasn't this, but Chris didn't doubt they'd get to whatever Victor had originally meant to do). Maybe he didn't need to wait too much longer, so Chris gave into his demands and pulled his fingers out.

He left the underwear on. He wondered if this would work with it still on, the white lace stretched out of the way for him. Victor had fussed about the clothes, after all.

But Victor gripped his shoulders when he started to move further down. "Aren't you going to take it off?"

"Mm." He wiped his fingers off on the blanket. "Weren't you the one who wanted to do this with _all_ our clothes still on?"

" _Chris_." Victor bit his lip and did the thing with his eyes that usually made them look huge and dark and inviting. It wasn't quite as effective through the veil. Chris took pity on him anyway, and shoved his hand down the front of Victor's underwear.

Victor cried out and fell back against the pillow. Chris let his fingers linger, wrapping around Victor's cock and feeling it jump at the touch, before he pulled the underwear all the way off and set it aside.

Now there was just the matter of doing this without getting their clothes too filthy. They _could_ simply hitch the dress up a lot, but that wouldn't look very elegant, would it, and Victor loved elegance. Chris thought about it for a moment and came up with a better idea. He sat back, made sure he wasn't too close to the edge of the bed (they'd learned that lesson twice over now), and made a gesturing motion. It was his turn to croon, "Come here."

Victor came to him, the dress pooling on the covers. He climbed into Chris's lap, and they both shuddered as their dicks brushed. That would have been good, too, but that wasn't what Victor had said he wanted tonight, and he raised himself up and took a second to hoist the front of the dress up and pin it against Chris's shoulder with his hand. "Think this will work?"

"If we're careful." It certainly looked prettier this way, with the fabric spread out all around them. Victor pressed a kiss to his cheek, the veil almost scratching, and then the fingers on Chris's shoulder started to dig in as Victor began sinking down, his other hand guiding Chris in. "Oh," Chris moaned, and he wrapped his arms around Victor's waist. "Oh, god, you feel incredible," and his mouth trailed off into a series of endearments in French, which left Victor laughing lightly.

They'd only just started, but Chris already knew he wasn't going to last long, not with Victor so tight around him, Victor in this lovely dress and nuzzling against him and with the veil making him even prettier than he should be. They began to rock together, a lot gentler than the last time they'd done this. "Keep talking?" Victor asked. "I like it when you say nice things about me."

"You hear nice things about yourself every day," Chris pointed out. He tugged Victor down and shuddered at the sensation. "I said nice things about you all day today."

"Yes, but," Victor started, and then he bit his lip. "Oh, fine. Chris," he said in a soft voice. "I like your eyes, and I like your – your whole face, it's very handsome, that was a good reason to marry you." Chris chuckled. "I like your accent and the way you're always helping me with my French, it's nice of you and it really has helped me a lot, and I – your skating, it's gotten a lot better recently and I like watching you. Your spins are so good, lately I've been kind of jealous of them, and whoever is doing your choreography—"

Wait, _what_. Victor had said nice things about his skating before – they didn't tend to get into too much detail, as it was much more fun to gossip about other skaters than to pick apart their own routines for the nth time – but Chris couldn't remember him using words like _jealous_. Maybe it was – or it really meant – oh, whatever. Chris let himself revel in the wash of pride for a few moments.

He pulled Victor to him and kissed him through the veil hot and hard, didn't let go even when Victor squirmed in his lap, not until they were both too out of breath not to part. "Mm," said Victor, when he could speak again. "Is this what I get for complimenting you? I think I can dig up a few more. I haven't even said anything about your ass yet."

They laughed together, and then they fell back into a comfortable silence. Just their breathing, the faint sound of the bed squeaking, the occasional gasp falling from Victor's lips when he sank down or a moan coming from Chris. Chris moved one of his hands to Victor's upper back, between his shoulder blades, and spread his fingers out. Victor curved his back into the touch, then straightened properly against it. He had this look on his face. Chris knew that look. It precipitated some kind of idea, and Victor's ideas in bed were usually pretty good.

Victor lifted his one hand from Chris's shoulder, still clutching his skirt. He grabbed the fabric with his other hand, too, pulled up and up and had to kind of double it up, until the hem was just high enough for Chris to be able to see his dick disappearing into Victor. Chris stared, before he tentatively reached out to touch Victor's thigh above his stockings. He watched what it looked like as they moved together, not able to put together an answer to Victor asking him how it was, and—

It was too much. Chris grabbed for Victor's hips, pushed up into him, shoved his head into Victor's neck. "Chris?" Victor went, then, "Ah," and draped his arms around his shoulders. Chris thrust into him once, twice more, and then he was coming.

Victor was patient with him, after, petting his hair, touching his neck, waiting until Chris felt like he could move again. Chris let him lean into him, and Victor turned a little when Chris put an arm in the small of his back to help support him. The other slipped under Victor's skirt and slowly, slowly slid up his leg.

Victor whined at him. Normally, Chris would have teased him some more, but they'd been going at this long enough; he stroked his thumb over the top of one stocking and then reached up to wrap his hand around Victor. "Good?" he asked.

"You know it is." Victor tucked his head more securely against Chris and moaned when Chris adjusted his grip. Chris always liked to watch his face when they did this, and the veil didn't get in the way enough to change that. Sometimes, he suspected, Victor played up his reactions, but he didn't get that feeling tonight. He didn't really need to; the way his expression fluttered and twisted was entertaining enough as it was.

Then Chris got an idea of his own. He glanced down, away from Victor; sure enough, there was what he wanted. He plucked the pocket square from the suit and shook it open, then replaced his hand under the dress and used the handkerchief to cover Victor's cock.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought we didn't want to get your wedding dress dirty."

"Oh." Victor's hips rolled into Chris's touch. "It feels a little – it's better than earlier."

"Do you want to—"

"No, it's fine. But you have to touch me more later, when we get these off."

"Of course I will. I promised I'd keep you up all night."

Victor leaned more weight into him and closed his eyes. Chris kept touching him, trying to keep a good rhythm while not letting the handkerchief slip off, and now he starting murmuring the compliments Victor had asked for earlier, about how amazing he looked and how good it had felt to be inside him and how Chris had almost wanted to call off the party so they could enjoy themselves earlier.

It wasn't long before Victor was close – it wasn't difficult to tell – and Chris thought maybe he should say something even sappier, that Victor would like that. He wasn't sure what, though. _I love you_ was a little too – something. Chris didn't want to go there. But he couldn't think of anything else that he thought he could say with a straight face.

So instead he held Victor more tightly, leaned their heads together, gave a happy little hum. He didn't have to wait much before Victor was shuddering and grabbing for Chris, his face gone tight behind the veil. Chris tossed the handkerchief to the side when Victor went lax and still, and that meant he had both arms free to hold Victor with.

They sat there for a few minutes, and Chris actually liked this kind of cuddling, sitting up, but his back was starting to protest the position. Reluctantly, he made Victor slide off his lap so he could stretch the ache out.

"Here," said Victor. He undid Chris's tie and stood up to set it on the chair by the window, then came back for the rest of Chris's clothes. The jacket and the waistcoat, all the shiny buttons, got folded neatly and draped on the back of the chair. Then the trousers before the shirt, Victor being careful to line up the legs in a way that Chris hadn't yet mastered. (His socks and underwear went in the vague direction of his suitcase. He could clean it up tomorrow.)

Victor paused for a moment to run his hands down Chris's sides and treat him to another smile, before he sat down himself and lifted his hair in a clear invitation. The fastening turned out to be a series of buttons and loops, and Chris reached for them before he realized something: Victor had fastened all of those himself. "You undo them," he said, and Victor huffed at him until Chris added, "I want to watch."

It sure was something to watch Victor bend his shoulders around until he could pluck the loop off each button, the fabric opening to reveal skin as he moved down the line and his back having to arch beautifully to reach some of the buttons. Chris did help pull it off his shoulders and down his torso until they could take it all the way off, and that was oddly pretty to see in its own way, like a butterfly's wings falling open. Now it was his turn to shake the dress to make the gathers fall in place and lay it over everything else on the back of the chair.

Victor made a pained sound as he stretched out. "That really was a tight fit," he said, wincing as he cracked a few vertebrae.

"It was so lovely, though," said Chris, pulling a leg into his lap so he could slide the stocking off. "Of course, you also look lovely without it."

Victor grinned at him. When they were both stripped of everything – except for the veil on Victor – and both of them had stretched a bit more, they collapsed to the bed and pulled the cover over themselves. "What about this?" Victor asked, touching the veil. "Should I keep it on? You seem to like it so much."

"If you want to. I do like it."

"Then I will." He did reach up to adjust it to an odd angle, maybe to make it more comfortable to lay his head. "But it's coming off later. I want to see you properly before we fall asleep."

"That might be a while."

"That's fine." Victor pulled him closer so they could start to cuddle properly. He gave a happy sigh. "Our first time as a married couple."

"Was it different from all the other times?"

"It felt so," and Victor waved a hand. "I don't know. It was different. It was wonderful. My wonderful husband," he said, turning to tuck himself further against Chris.

So they were still playing the game. That was fine. They wouldn't get to see each other for ages after this, probably not until the season started up again, and Chris intended to have his fill of Victor and his voice and his skin.


End file.
